


you should see the other guy

by ObscureReference



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Anxiety, Friendship, Head Injury, M/M, Mild Blood, Minor Injuries, Stitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 18:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18666337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscureReference/pseuds/ObscureReference
Summary: “Is it bad?”Glass crunched underfoot as Inigo—thankfully still wearing his shoes—crossed the gap between them and pressed the cloth against Owain’s forehead himself. Owain pulled back with a hiss of pain; Inigo pressed onward.“Head wounds bleed a lot,” Inigo said, which wasn’t an answer. His worried look worsened when he peeled back the towel to glance at Owain’s skin underneath, grimacing. “Oh, yikes.”





	you should see the other guy

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a month since my last fic. Missed me, anyone? I've had little to no time or energy to write since the semester started. It's my final semester abroad too. I have a full set of classes, an internship, and also a part time job. Crazy how things change, huh? Hopefully I manage some more time as the weeks go on. Hope you enjoy!

“I said this before, but again, for the record: this is still your fault,” Inigo said, steering the car onto Owain’s street. “I’ve done my part of taking care of you. If you hurt yourself again after I leave, that’s on you.”

Owain very deliberately did not reach up to touch the bandage covering the stitches above his eyebrow, but only because it would have hurt more to do so. Instead, he settled for fixing Inigo with an unimpressed look.

“This is definitely _your_ fault,” he countered. “If I should perish tomorrow from internal bleeding, the weight of my death shall rest squarely on your shoulders.”

“It’s like two stitches, you baby,” Inigo grumbled. But the press of his lips and the quick way he glanced at Owain gave away the façade.

It was Inigo’s fault Owain had spent the last hour at the hospital getting his head sewed shut, Owain thought, but it wasn’t like Inigo had hurt him on purpose. Owain had been digging around under the sink, sorting miscellaneous cleaning products and kitchen knickknacks and other such things he and Niles hadn’t found a place for yet.

Inigo had come up behind him with a question, closer than Owain had been expecting. They’d been unpacking in separate rooms for a while. He’d said Owain’s name, and Owain—forgetting there was a sink hanging over his head—shot up.

He’d caught himself on—something. On an errant nail, on the underside rim of the sink, on something Owain hadn’t noticed until he’d stood up and a combination of sharp pain and the sight of Inigo so close had caused him to fumble. He’d dropped the glass mixing bowl Aunt Maribelle had given him as a moving present. The bowl promptly shattered on the kitchen tile.

Eyebrow stinging with pain, Owain slapped a hand over what felt like a fresh cut. He pulled away just as quickly, wincing. There was blood on his hand.

Inigo stared back, mouth agape.

The vision in Owain’s left eye suddenly ran red.

“Oh, shit,” Inigo swore, grabbing a towel from the counter and throwing it at Owain. “Quick, press this against your head.”

Owain had caught the towel, but his brain hadn’t quite caught up with what Inigo had been saying yet. A warm river ran down the left side of his face.

“Is it bad?”

Glass crunched underfoot as Inigo—thankfully still wearing his shoes—crossed the gap between them and pressed the cloth against Owain’s forehead himself. Owain pulled back with a hiss of pain; Inigo pressed onward.

“Head wounds bleed a lot,” Inigo said, which wasn’t an answer. His worried look worsened when he peeled back the towel to glance at Owain’s skin underneath, grimacing. “Oh, yikes.”

“Don’t say _yikes_ ,” Owain said, the slice above his eyebrow throbbing. He wiped his bloody hand on the counter to be cleaned later. His fingers were sticky. Even with the towel pressed against the cut, there was still blood in his eye. Owain didn’t want to risk opening it, so he squinted at Inigo with half vision. “How bad is it?”

Inigo made a face. He’d looked down at the glass on the floor and gently pushed some of the bigger shards out of the way with his shoe.

“Okay, watch your feet,” Inigo said, taking a step back. Since he was holding the towel, Owain followed. Carefully. “I don’t want to bring you to your mom looking any worse.”

“Oh my god,” Owain groaned. “I haven’t even finished moving, and you’ve already killed me.”

“You’re not dying,” Inigo said, rolling his eyes. He wrinkled his nose at Owain’s head—at whatever he could see there that Owain couldn’t. “But let’s hurry up anyway, okay?”

The bright side of Owain cutting his head open was that they’d actually made it to the hospital and received a handful of tiny stitches in the blink of an eye. His mother’s fussing when she’d found out Owain and Inigo were sitting in one of the patient rooms had taken longer than the procedure itself. The cut barely even throbbed anymore. Inigo, probably feeling guilty, had been a dutiful friend throughout it all. He’d even found Owain some tissues to clean his face with on the car ride over. Owain had appreciated the effort, though Inigo had tried to mask his concern with brittle jabs the whole time. It hadn’t worked very well; Inigo’s constant fussing was hard to ignore, even as Owain and Inigo went back and forth over who was to blame.

The downside was that Owain had expected to finish unpacking the kitchen before Niles got home from work, and now that was clearly a bust. He hadn’t even been able to give Niles a heads up to pick up sandwiches for dinner since they probably weren’t going to be able to cook anything proper in their new home either. In Inigo’s haste to get them in the car, Owain had forgotten his phone. They couldn’t use Inigo’s phone either since he’d busted his cell a few days before and was still dealing with wonky cloud storage problems.

Owain hoped Niles wouldn’t be too bothered by not having been kept up to date. He also hoped Niles didn’t mind the broken glass and the fact they were now down one out of four kitchen rags without having even spent a night in their new home yet. Niles had picked out the matching set himself. That was definitely a bummer.

Also, Owain had stitches in his head now.

So there was that.

But as far as downsides went, those weren’t too bad, Owain thought. And anyway, now he was home.

Inigo pulled up next to the curb and parked the car, though he didn’t turn the engine off. He looked at Owain.

“Are you going to be fine going up by yourself?” he asked.

Owain snorted. “I can walk. You didn’t really kill me.” He paused. “Yet.”

“Die.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Owain opened the car door and stuck his foot out. He paused, switching gears. “Though you may have spilled my blood this day, heroic ichor still flows through my family’s veins. Her son may perish due to your dastardly deeds, but my mother’s revenge will be—"

“Get out of my car,” Inigo said, trying very hard not to smile.

Owain got out.

Because he was a genuinely good friend, Owain didn’t hear Inigo’s car pull away until Owain had actually entered the building. He took the stairs up.

The door was unlocked when Owain tried it, which made sense since he couldn’t remember if he’d grabbed his keys or not before leaving. He didn’t bother digging around in his pockets, positive he’d left them on the counter. Hopefully nobody had broken in while he’d been gone.

 _Niles would be mad,_ Owain thought, remembering his boyfriend’s many lectures on house safety. Owain wondered if he was home.

Unsure but wanting to make a proper entrance anyway, Owain announced himself loudly as he threw open the door, an assortment of unpacked boxes greeting him by the entrance.

“At last! Owain Dark escapes the jaws of death, wounded in body but sound of mind and spirit!” There was a flash of movement from the kitchen—the outline of Niles. Owain whirled towards him. “Now, in a haven on the verge of rest and respite, power courses through me. My body—Whoa, are you okay?”

He dropped the pose when Niles turned and Owain caught sight of the expression on his face. It wasn’t right at all. A tension Owain hadn’t noticed before settled in the air.

“Niles?” Owain stepped closer. “Are you alright? Did something happen?”

Niles stared back without speaking. His eye flickered to the floor, then Owain.

Owain followed his gaze. The ruins of the bowl he’d dropped earlier still lay in jagged pieces in front of the sink. Several—not sizable but still noticeable—splotches of blood sat amongst the glass. The blood Owain had wiped on the counter had turned a rusty brown since he’d been gone. A few droplets on the floor had been smeared by somebody’s feet. His or Inigo’s, Owain knew.

“I definitely meant to clean that,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Is that—Are you feeling okay?”

“You didn’t call,” Niles rasped.

Owain blinked at the strangeness of Niles’s voice. He looked around and spotted his phone on the counter after a moment, exactly where he’d left it.

He gestured towards the phone. “Sorry. I forgot my phone here, so…”

Questions hung in the air between them. Niles stared at Owain in disbelief. His shoulders slumped so quickly Owain was sure the man was going to collapse entirely. Owain jerked forward, reaching to catch him.

It wasn’t necessary. Somehow, Niles stayed upright. Owain caught him by the shoulders anyway.

“Hey, maybe you should lay down—”

“What the hell happened to you?”

Their voices overlapped. Niles’s face was stoic but pale.

Owain looked at Niles. _Really_ looked at him, mind racing. He heard Niles’s voice when he said _“You didn’t call.”_ The door had probably been unlocked when Niles had come home. When he’d come home to find Owain gone and unreachable and—

“Oh,” he said, the pieces suddenly sliding into place. He was an idiot.

He took Niles’s callused hand between his own and felt it shake. Owain kissed the back of Niles’s knuckles. Niles curled his fingers in Owain’s grasp.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Owain said seriously. “I had an accident, but I’m fine. I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

Stiffly, Niles nodded. He was looking better by the minute, but this close and with Owain looking for the signs, he noticed the things he hadn’t before.

When had Niles come home? The glass and blood on the floor spoke of dark things, not of the stupid accident Owain and Inigo had caused. Had Niles called Owain’s name in a panic, thinking something terrible had happened, only to be met with silence? Or had he tensed up at the sight, scenario after scenario running through his head rapid-fire the way Owain knew Niles’s mind was wont to do.

It couldn’t have been too long, Owain told himself. Niles had would have called someone if he thought it was a real emergency. He’d been standing in the kitchen when Owain walked in. They must have barely missed each other coming home.

Still, he felt like an ass.

Niles still had nightmares about his childhood. Quiet monsters that left him waking up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night, though he claimed not to remember what he dreamed about when Owain asked.

That much was probably true, but that didn’t mean Niles was any more at ease about it. He tensed up at things Owain didn’t think twice about; his mind wandered into darker corners. The fact Owain had been a guiding hand in that this time, no matter how brief, felt bad.

Niles cupped Owain’s face in his hands and exhaled. He shut his eye briefly as Owain’s fingers gently encircled his wrist. Then, a beat later, he pressed himself completely against Owain’s front and wrapped his arms around Owain’s neck.

“Sorry,” Owain said again, hugging Niles back. The apology felt lame.

“What the hell happened to your head?” Niles asked. His voice was muffled in Owain’s shoulder.

Owain hummed, rubbing his hand up and down Niles’s back. “Do you like it? I’m hoping it’ll scar and make me look tougher.”

“You’ll probably look like a moron.” Niles shifted against him. “And I say that without knowing what you’ve done to yourself. Judging by the bandage, it’s nothing good.”

Oh, yeah. Owain had forgotten about that. He pulled away from Niles.

“Do you want to see?”

He reached up and peeled the bandage away from his forehead without waiting for an answer. He couldn’t help but wince as a corner of the tape tugged at his eyebrow hair, but it came off without much effort.

Niles let out a puff of air when he saw the neat row of stitches on Owain’s forehead. Owain had only seen them in the mirror for a moment at the hospital, but they were decent enough. He figured his skin was still red and irritated from the cut though. Plus the stitches still felt wet from the gel the nurse had put on them.

“Does it hurt?” Niles asked, his good eye locked on to the wound.

Owain shrugged. “Not really. I’m supposed to keep it covered until at least tomorrow though.”

“Then let’s keep it covered.”

Niles gently laid a hand on top of Owain’s and helped him stick the bandage back on. His fingers were deft and kind to Owain’s tender skin. Owain was smiling at him by the time he finished.

Niles was probably hungry after being out all day, but it didn’t feel like the right time to cook. Owain didn’t think either of them were quite up to leaving to pick something up at the moment either.

“Let’s lay down for a bit, shall we?” he suggested. “We can order dinner after.”

Niles hummed, tracing the curve of Owain’s jaw with a finger. “We haven’t pulled the sheets out yet.”

“We can do that later.” Owain had slung his arms around Niles’s waist. “Or we can lay on the couch.”

“Alright.”

Neither of them moved. Owain felt Niles breathe against him, and he was sure Niles felt him doing the same.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Owain said after a beat of silence—an answer to an unspoken question that wasn’t actually up for debate.

“Good,” Niles said. “I wouldn’t let you.”

Owain kissed him. Niles was warm and welcoming against his mouth. It wasn’t a fast, eager kiss, but there was a sense of longing to it that washed over Owain in phantom waves.

When they pulled apart, Niles said, “Is that bowl you broke the one Maribelle gave you last week?”

Owain winced. The exaggerated expression tugged uncomfortably at his stitches, so he relaxed just as quickly. Niles definitely noticed.

“Come on,” Owain said. “We can lay down, and you can help me think of excuses for the next time she comes over.”

He would probably end up blaming Inigo. It would be the truth.

Niles huffed, amused. “Or we could clean this place up so neither of us steps on glass later.”

“We can do that too,” Owain said.

Niles kissed him again, lips lingering, and then went to find a broom.

As he dug among the boxes, Niles said over his shoulder, “So are you going to tell me how you cut your head open or am I supposed to guess?”

“It’s Inigo’s fault,” Owain immediately said.

Niles made a disbelieving sound. “I’m sure.”

It was almost funny.

Owain helped him find the broom.

**Author's Note:**

> When I was like 14, I was at camp and a girl ran down a hallway. She bumped her head on a little round knob thing and suddenly stopped. I knew she must have felt the bump, but I was not at all expecting the literal river of blood that pour down her face like a waterfall. She looked like a ghost. I was surprised a little round knob could make a person bleed at all. One of the counselors whisked her away. I didn't see her the rest of the day. I saw her the next, though, and I think it ended up being a small cut. Head injuries just bleed a lot and look scary even when they're pretty minor. Anyway, that's the incident I'm basing Owain's injury off here. He cut his head on a nail hanging out under the sink or the side of the cabinet door or something. He just moved too fast. Things like that often look scarier than they truly are.
> 
> Also, Niles worries about a lot of things because of his past. He knows just how quickly things can go wrong. But who among us wouldn't panic if you came home expecting your SO/a friend/a family member/literally anybody to be there and find some blood and glass instead? That'd be pretty spooky, no matter how little there was. I was going to write Niles more explicitly having an anxiety attack here, but it didn't work out that way in execution. He definitely is panicking for a hot second there though.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment below or hit me up on my [tumblr!](http://someobscurereference.tumblr.com/) I get a lot of FE14 meta and fic related asks there, so feel free to browse through my "asks" or "fe14" tag for some extra stuff from me and your fellow readers that you may not see over here. Or send in a question of your own if you had one! Thanks for reading!


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